


One

by SweetSinger2010



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-18 01:24:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13671339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSinger2010/pseuds/SweetSinger2010
Summary: Rescuing Kanan from the Star Destroyer was only half the battle; now he and Hera had deal with the rift growing between them. He didn't want in the rebellion. She didn't want out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since the first season four trailer dropped and we heard Kanan say “When are you going to feel you’ve done enough for this rebellion?” I’ve had a big, fat bee in my bonnet to write about how Kanan and Hera dealt with the aftermath of him finding out the crew is a rebel cell. I feel like it could have gotten pretty ugly, and I love angst, so here we are. It’ll be a little AU around the beginning of season two, because this is fan fiction, after all. The inspiration for this piece was the Johnny Cash cover of U2’s “One;” hence, the title. Hope you enjoy!

_“The Force was a death mark…He didn’t want it complicating his world, making him feel like somebody’s prey again. And he didn’t like being reminded about what had happened in that other life.” –A New Dawn_

* * *

 

One

_Chapter 1_

He’d been aboard a Star Destroyer, and now he wasn’t. They’d been digging in his _mind_ for information, and now they weren’t. He’d been in pain, and now he was better.

He wasn’t having trouble wrapping his mind around any of that; it seemed pretty cut-and-dried, for now. What he was having trouble with was how his life had changed, just now, this instant, without his permission. Kanan had questions, and then he saw the woman climbing down from the cockpit and all it took was one glance at her utility belt to tell him everything; he only knew of one person to wield two lightsabers.

To any Jedi his age, she would have been instantly recognizable. Kanan was pretty sure he’d have been able to recognize her if he was drunk and stumbling through a dark alley. He didn’t need to her hear introduce herself; he already knew her and his stomach dropped into the soles of his shoes, even farther than it already had when he heard Bail Organa refer to his crew as a _rebel cell_.

They could call themselves whatever they wanted, but the presence of Ahsoka Tano made it real. She was the kind of person who made things _happen,_ and she always had been. Oddly enough, he wasn’t shocked to see her. He wasn’t even all that surprised that she’d survived Order 66; Skywalker’s apprentice had always seemed untouchable, a law unto herself, and the circumstances surrounding her departure from the Temple only solidified that reputation. What the Togruta had been up to over the last fifteen years, how she had become Fulcrum, Kanan could only speculate. He was curious, but only idly so; what he really wanted to know was why Hera was the only other person in the room not eyeing Ahsoka’s twin lightsabers in awe.

“Karabast,” Zeb murmured beside him. “Two Jedi in the same room. Ever think you’d see the day?”

Before Kanan could answer, Ezra’s head whipped around. “ _I’m_ a Jedi and Kanan and I are in the same room together _all the time._ ”

The Lasat rolled his eyes. “We don’t have time to name all the reasons why you don’t count.”

Ezra pulled a nasty face while Hera pursed her lips in disapproval and Ahsoka smothered a smile. Kanan hardly registered what was going on. His mind was reeling. He tried to think of how many times Hera had mentioned Fulcrum, her most trusted contact.

If he’d known about this years ago, known who she really was—

“Hey, you’re looking pale,” Sabine said, nudging him with her elbow. She kept her voice low so that only the two of them could hear.

“Yeah, well, it’s been a bit of a day,” he answered dryly. She arched an eyebrow, gauging him.

“You’re uncomfortable with this.”

“Like I said,” he repeated, weighting his words, “it’s been a bit of a day.”

“Right.” Sabine was silent for a beat. “Well,” she said lightly, “it’s about time for some food. Since I helped rescue you from a Star Destroyer today, how about you repay me by finally giving up the recipe to your special stir-fry sauce?”

He rolled his eyes and almost laughed at the droll question. “Corellian brandy,” he said, “eighty-proof. But don’t tell Hera.”

Hearing her name, the Twi’lek turned with a smile. “Don’t tell Hera what?” Her smile faded quickly as she studied his face. “Let’s get you resting, love.”

“You’ve all had a long day,” Ahsoka said by way of excusing herself. “I look forward to talking with you more after you’ve had a chance to recuperate.” Kanan shifted; she was addressing the room, but she made eye contact with _him._

 _If she calls me Caleb,_ he thought blackly, _I’m going to punch her in the teeth._

He kept that sentiment to himself, but it must have shown on his face in that imperceptible way Hera was so aggravatingly good at picking up on. Her eyes never left him. Not while she was treating his bruises and burns, not while he tried to eat dinner, not after everyone else went to bed. It was slightly unnerving, yet he couldn’t quite bring himself to leave her side; one of the worst parts of his ordeal had been not knowing if he’d ever get to look into those eyes again, and even if he was feeling…conflicted about things, he wasn’t ready to be without her.

So there he sat, on the closed sani lid, while she took a shower. He’d wandered in after she’d already gotten in and started the water, but he was able to tell the exact moment she started to unwind. She sighed and hummed as the water reached peak temperature, steaming up the small room. He didn’t smell soap right away; a tell-tale sign that she was simply standing under the showerhead letting the heat and the water pressure knead her neck and shoulders. It was her favorite small luxury.

“Tense?” He asked.

“Not anymore.” The soft floral smell of her soap rose in the air and Kanan knew without watching how her shower routine would progress: head and lekku first, neck and shoulders, arms, torso, etc. Then she’d rinse, linger just a moment more before shutting the water off. When she opened the shower door, he wordlessly handed her towel to her and she took it with a smile.

“I still think it’s weird,” he said, watching her dry her feet first before she stepped out of the shower.

“Huh-uh—we’re not revisiting that.” He smirked half-heartedly and she frowned. “Why don’t you go to bed, Kanan?”

He shrugged. “I’ll go when you go.”

She gave him a sidelong glance as she continued to towel off, pulling on her underwear and sleepshirt after she did so. She stepped over to the sink next, brushing her teeth, applying facial moisturizer, doing the ordinary things he’d seen her do a thousand times. She propped a foot up on his knee, using him as a stand as she smoothed lotion over her skin, alternating legs. She was close enough that he could finger the jagged scar spanning across her hipbone. He couldn’t remember how she’d gotten it. He just remembered that it’d bled like crazy and she’d been sour about not being able to sleep on her side for the weeks it took to heal. He spread his hand over her hip, feeling the warmth of her skin, making sure she was actually there. Touching her felt so surreal after the nightmare of the last ten days.

He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. “I woke up on a Star Destroyer this morning.”

“I know, love.” Her voice was low and heavy and he could feel it resonate through her skin. He opened his eyes and looked up at her. His mouth moved silently as he tried to find words; none would come. She held out her hand and he took it, letting her lead him to his cabin. He sat on the edge of his bunk and she helped him undress: boots first, trousers, and then his shirt. Her eyes were continuously drawn to the burns and bruises the Empire had left him, but she didn’t say anything. Her hand felt like a comforting balm as she stroked his cheek.

“I don’t think I can sleep,” he said quietly. Her head tilted to the side.

“What do you need?”

“Stay with me.”

She nodded and crossed the room to dim the lights before she climbed in the bunk next to him. He lay on his back and she coiled on her side, resting her head on his shoulder. Absently, he stroked the part of her lek that had fallen across his chest. She was still, breathing soft and slow, but he didn’t let that fool him into thinking she was anything other than awake. He counted her respirations in groups of ten, just to give himself something to do other than think about what he’d been trying not to think about: they were a rebel cell. Ahsoka Tano was Fulcrum.

Hera had known about it all, and that settled on him heavier than anything else did.

* * *

 

Hera was dying to tell Kanan everything: how hollow she’d felt with him gone, how what the Inquisitor had done to him sent white-hot rage through her veins, how she felt relieved and whole in the brief moment he’d hugged her.

But she’d seen his eyes, the deeply unsettled look in them when he realized they were in the rebellion, when he realized Fulcrum was a Jedi, when he realized she’d known all along. Instinct screamed at her to keep her mouth shut until he was ready to bring it up. She hoped it wouldn’t take long—she only had to look at him to tell he wasn’t alright. Yet even though she knew he had to be upset with her, he stayed close. Part of her took comfort in that; she’d always been far more of a touch-me-not than Kanan and it was always a bad sign when he wanted to isolate himself.

He was anything but isolated now, holding her as they lay together in his bunk. His hand moved softly over her skin, touching her lek in an intimate way that didn’t have anything to do with sex. He did that sometimes, when he wanted to assure her he was there, everything was fine. Everything wasn’t fine, but if he needed space to get his thoughts together, she was going to give it to him. She determined to stay awake beside him all night, alert to every shift he made, every change of his breathing, ready to be there for him if he needed her.

The sound of her name shook her from a light sleep.

“Hera,” he said again.

“I’m here,” she murmured, slurring the words just a little.  

“Can we talk?”

“Of course.” She started to sit up, but he squeezed his hand on her shoulder.

“No,” he said. “Let’s just—”

She settled back against him, ignoring how uneasy she felt about not looking him in the eyes. “What is it?”

“How much did you know about Fulcrum—before?”

Hera inhaled sharply and her pulse spiked; she hadn’t expected they’d do this now. “I didn’t know her name before today,” she said slowly.

He nodded and there was a long pause. Too long. “Did you…” He fought for the words. “Did you know she was a Jedi?”

“Not—not at first.” Hera remembered the day she’d met with Fulcrum the first time after communicating via transmissions for so long. There’d been something in her posture and carriage, her self-assured grace, her tactical skill, the way she talked about the Republic and the Clone War—it had all reminded Hera of the Jedi she’d seen as a child on Ryloth. Kenobi, Windu, Mundi and the others. The second time they met face to face, she’d seen the lightsabers swinging freely on her belt and asked point-blank.

_“You’re very astute, Hera,” Fulcrum said. She paused, nodding. “I was a Jedi.”_

_“You’re so open about it,” she murmured incredulously. Kanan still had nightmares about Order 66, could barely say the word **Jedi** , and she knew he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing his fully-assembled lightsaber on his belt for all to see. He was still closed to that part of himself, so scared, but maybe— “Are there others?”_

_“There have been.” It was a careful answer and a flicker of grief passed in the Togruta’s eyes. “The Empire…has ways of taking care of survivors.”_

_Hera felt gutted at the idea of the Empire **taking care** of Kanan; it showed on her face._

_Fulcrum narrowed her eyes. “You know someone,” she guessed._

_“My…” She bit her tongue against the word **lover** as it rose unbidden. “My partner. He’s a survivor. He—he won’t talk about it much. He’s only just starting to tell me things. I catch him meditating, sometimes. I see…such a **strength** in him. He could still be a great Jedi.” Hera fumbled over her words, felt like she was betraying Kanan by being so open with Fulcrum about his business._

_Fulcrum understood, and evidently decided not to press the matter. “Encourage when you can, but don’t push, Hera. For all of us—myself, the survivors I’ve come across—what happened to the Jedi…it’s a wound that will never fully heal. We all carry the scar differently.”_

_Hera nodded, more than a little surprised to hear Fulcrum speaking about something so personal. “Do…you think it would help him, knowing about—about you?”_

_“Do **you**?”_

She did not—not back in the days when merely alluding to the Clone War or the Jedi put a skittish look in his eye and made her afraid he’d run. So she’d kept it from him, and it had been the right thing to do at the time.

“I didn’t know for sure until four, maybe five years ago,” Hera said after a long, weighted silence. He shifted his hold on her, turning on his side, tucking her head under his chin. He sighed heavily.

“I would have run, back then,” he said, “if you’d told me.” They both knew it was true.

“That’s what I was afraid of.” She shivered, tired and overwrought. “I couldn’t stand for that to happen.”

“I know.” He kissed the crown of her head and that was the end of it.

Except that it wasn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

_“Any excuse to be in her company was a good one, as long as she didn’t push the matter. Hera knew one little thing about his past now…He hoped she’d figure out it had no bearing on who he was. If delivering pinpricks to the Empire was what gave her a thrill, he could certainly help her without getting into all that.” –A New Dawn_

* * *

 

One

_Chapter 2_

Kanan eventually fell asleep, lulled both by devastating exhaustion and Hera’s soft skin. He slept hard all night and most of the next day. It was almost sixteen hundred when he stumbled out of his cabin, stiff and sore. He grimaced in the hall lights, squinting so intensely that he almost didn’t notice Ezra propped up against Hera’s cabin door, right across from him.

The teen scrambled to his feet, smiling sheepishly. “Heeey, Kanan, I was just—”

“Stalking me?”

“Ahh…only a little.”

Kanan rolled his eyes even as his lips tugged up in a smile. Distantly, he remembered a time during the war when Depa had been injured and he’d planted himself beside her bacta tank, unwilling to leave his master alone. “Well come on,” he said. “You can stalk me to the galley while I make some caf.”

“Um.” Ezra trailed after him nervously. “Hera told me to make sure you had something good to eat when you got up, and by ‘good,’ I think she meant ‘good _for_ you’ instead of caffeine—”

Kanan snorted; _that_ was rich coming from the woman who’d been known to drink caf for breakfast and lunch like it was a complete food group. “Is Hera here right now?”

“Well, no.”

He honestly hadn’t expected her to be hanging around at this time of day, but somehow, hearing that she was gone put a sour taste in his mouth. “Then I’m in charge,” he said flatly, “and I’m making caf.”

Ezra didn’t have a reply to that and stood wisely silent as Kanan prepped the caf-maker, measuring the grounds and dumping them in the filter before he added water to the tank and activated the unit. Within moments, hot liquid began to fill the carafe. He must have placed it under the dispenser incorrectly, because all of a sudden, caf was splattering and dribbling down the side. It burned the back of his hand and he jerked back; for a split second, his mind took him back to the Star Destroyer and that _thing_ they’d used to—

“Kanan?” Ezra’s voice was concerned, edged with panic. Kanan blinked a couple of times, reorienting himself to reality. He swiped his hand across his shirt, looking at the small, pink splotches of burned skin.

“I’m good,” he said roughly. Ezra looked skeptical, and Kanan sighed. “You ever get tuned up real good when you were living on Lothal?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Couple of times.”

“You ever get real jumpy afterward?”

“Yeah.”

Kanan reached over and squeezed his Padawan’s shoulder. “That’s all this is.”

“Maybe I should—”

The rest of that sentence was _get Hera_ , he knew. “No.”

“Yeah, okay.” Ezra shuffled his way over to the table, not-so-subtly watching Kanan pour himself a cup of caf. Kanan sat across from him and opened his mouth to tell him to quit staring, but caught sight of the twin scars on his cheek. He’d forgotten about that.

“You get that checked out?”

Ezra felt the spot, wincing. “First thing this morning.” He grinned. “Sabine said it made me look _interesting._ ”

Kanan rolled his eyes. “Don’t go getting any ideas,” he warned.

Ezra held his hands up. “Hey, I’m cool.” Kanan fixed him with a withering look. “I’m working on being cool,” he amended.

“Sounds more like it.” Kanan let silence lapse then, drinking his caf. He felt more centered than he had last night, though he wasn’t sure whether that was because he was _actually_ centered, or because he was numb to everything. It felt a little bit like both. “Where is Hera, anyway?” He asked after a while.

“Oh, she’s with Commander Sato, I think.”

Kanan’s face scrunched. _“Who?”_

“Our new…boss?”

Boss. Commander. Rebel cell. Military. War.

Stale anger stirred in the pit of Kanan’s stomach. “Let’s get one thing straight.” He pointed a finger. “ _I_ am your boss.”

“O-kay then,” Ezra said carefully, “Hera’s new boss.”

He liked the sound of that even less.

“It’s all pretty cool, actually,” Ezra continued, oblivious, “the set-up and everything. Ahsoka was telling me—what? You got this weird look on your face.”

“It’s…just strange,” Kanan admitted, dodging Ezra’s gaze. “Coming across another Jedi after so long. Especially Ahsoka Tano.”

“Wait—you didn’t _know?_ ” The teen’s voice was incredulous.

“You should get her to show you her technique with saber Form V.” He drained the last of his caf, dodging the question. “She was one of the best there was, even as a learner. And that was fifteen years ago. You could learn a lot from her.” He got up from the table and threw a glance over his shoulder as he went to pour himself another cup of caf. “We both could.”

“Hey.” Ezra half-stood up, looking like he was ready to launch himself over the table in Kanan’s direction. There was a distinctly skittish look in his eye. “You’re not gonna try and dump me again, are you? Like when we thought Master Luminara was alive?”

“And make you Ahsoka’s headache?” He gave a reassuring smile. “One of the core Jedi tenets is compassion, Ezra. I would never do that.”

Ezra grinned broadly. “I’m glad your Star Destroyer vacation didn’t put a dent in your sense of humor. It still sucks.”

Kanan rolled his eyes. “Get outta here.”

Ezra jumped up from the table and headed for the door. He stopped suddenly, eyes narrowed. “Hey, are you good? The Inquisitor…that was all…a lot.”

Kanan couldn’t bring himself to lie, but he didn’t want to tell the truth, either. “I’m good enough, Ezra. Promise.”

“Well, if you need anything, just—I’ll be around.”

Ezra left then, and that’s when Kanan let his face fall. He scrubbed his hand over his eyes, completely drained. He was unsettled by what Ezra had told him about “Hera’s new boss,” and the “cool set-up” of this little organization, and he really didn’t like how free he’d been with talking to his apprentice about Ahsoka. The words had just tumbled off his tongue. He’d spent about two decades actively _avoiding_ his Jedi past, and now it was just all…there. And the funny thing was: deep down, he didn’t really mind.

But he _did_ mind this rebellion thing and all the rest; how could the two possibly be mutually exclusive?

He stood in the galley for a long time, a fresh cup of caf untouched in his hand, angry and at odds with himself.

And angry at Hera for putting him in this position. He didn’t blame her for not telling him about Ahsoka—but how long had she known about this rebellion?

* * *

 At times, Ahsoka still allowed herself to wonder what life would have been like if she’d never left the Order, if the Empire had never risen, if she’d lived her days in the Jedi Temple as she once thought she would. Specifically, she wondered what it would have been like to take and train a Padawan. There were moments when she thought it would have been an equally frustrating and humbling task to teach someone; the master-apprentice bond was like nothing else.

And then there were moments—like this one—when she was glad she was on her own; it allowed her to teach and nurture when and where she could, but ultimately leave the work to someone else.

Ezra Bridger was a _livewire._

She liked him.

She’d been wary when Hera sent a transmission and said the _Ghost_ was getting a new crewmember, a Force-sensitive. Ahsoka wondered about the wisdom of that, especially considering Kanan’s past hesitance to embrace his Jedi roots. And, she knew, the increased Inquisitor activity galaxy-wide would create problems sooner rather than later. But it wasn’t hard to see why Hera had oh-so-subtly talked Kanan into teaching this boy, why she obviously had a soft spot for him.

His mind moved a mile a minute, and his mouth had no difficulty keeping up. Maybe he wasn’t the _most_ focused on his training at times, but not out of any malintent. His quick grin and the mischievous quirk of his brows distracted from the quiet, contemplative side of him, but Ahsoka saw it nonetheless. He was eager, full of energy and boundless compassion—and there was also a hidden depth of sadness and anger. A wisp of darkness against the radiance of light.

Amazing that it was only a wisp, Ahsoka reflected sadly, considering everything that Ezra Bridger had lived through in his short fifteen years. He was a survivor, just as much as herself or Kanan. She hummed thoughtfully.

Kanan.

Now _there_ was an interesting master-apprentice pair: a mouthy ex-Jedi and a mouthy street-child. Yet, it seemed to be working and working _well._ Not perfectly, but well. They’d been good for each other, from what Hera said. It was Ezra’s concern for his master that had spurred the entire rescue, after all. They were family now, their bond irrevocable. Ahsoka understood; there was a time when she would have burned down the galaxy for her master, whether or not she should.

But the unintended consequence of Ezra’s actions was that the Spectres were now integrated with Phoenix Squadron, and that was problematic. Not because the Spectres weren’t needed—on the contrary. They had, over and over, proven themselves to be a highly effective team. No, it was problematic because Ahsoka had seen the look in Kanan’s eyes the exact moment he realized he was involved with something he didn’t want to be. She’d seen how he glanced at Hera and a half-dozen emotions flicked across his face. She’d seen his resentment and apprehension, and she could sense it in the Force now, roiling within him; she knew that Hera was mostly unaware.

The real strength of the Spectres lay with the strength of their leadership, with Kanan and Hera. And Kanan and Hera were standing on the precipice of conflict, whether they knew it or not—the kind of conflict that would tear apart their ship and their seven years of friendship faster than any explosion could.

As they left a briefing aboard _Phoenix Home_ , Ahsoka warned Hera to tread carefully.

* * *

_Make sure the two of you are on the same page,_ Ahsoka said. _For the sake of your team, Hera._

And Hera thought blankly how unnecessary that advice was; she and Kanan were _always_ on the same page.

She’d come back to the _Ghost_ to find him awake, showered, and moving around. He looked better than she’d dared to hope, but there was something in his eyes, something reluctant and guarded. She followed him as everyone went to bed, leaning against his door after it closed. He sat on his bunk and leaned forward, elbows on knees, rubbing a hand over his face. Then he looked up at her, waiting for her to speak.

That look in his eyes…suddenly she was unsure they _were_ on the same page.

“How are you?” She asked finally. The words were weighted.

“I’m taking it a minute at a time,” he said.

She nodded. “Do you…want to talk?”

“About what happened on the Destroyer? No—no, I’m good to put that behind me.”

She started to feel uneasy, knowing they were about to circle back to last night’s vein of conversation. “What is it, then?”

He looked at her for a long moment, as if he was deciding whether he wanted to go down this road or not. “You were working with Fulcrum when we met, right?”

She’d been out on her own for almost a year and a half at that point. Her father had inadvertently been the one to introduce her to Fulcrum; to his everlasting chagrin, no doubt. “Yes,” she said. “But we hadn’t met face-to-face yet.”

“Right.” He paused, nodded, looked up at her. “And did you know who she was working for? Did you know you—were wrapped up in something bigger?”

“I didn’t know details for a long time—years, Kanan,” she admitted quietly. She saw his face flush and his hands clench and unclench on his knees, over and over. “But…yes. I knew.” He was silent and it was too much. She stepped forward but he didn’t move, so she stopped in the middle of the room, arms crossed over her waist.

He made an aggravated sound. “We agreed at the start it was better for only one of to know the details. I remember; I was there.”

It had been his idea. They both knew it. If captured, he’d said, you can’t reveal what you don’t know.

But they both knew that he hadn’t agreed to _this._

“Kanan, I—”

“I just…need some time to get my head around it. But I’m here.” He stood and walked toward her slowly, still tender from the beatings he’d been given. He placed his hands on her shoulders and drew her close. The embrace felt hollow. “Okay?” He asked after a few moments.

“Okay,” she said.

* * *

 It wasn’t okay.

What he’d said last night was true and he meant it: it was a good thing she hadn’t told him about Ahsoka in those early years. He understood that, was grateful for it, even. He hadn’t been ready to work with another Jedi then, or to open up that part of himself the way he was now.

So it _was_ good she hadn’t said anything. It was.

But if he’d known, on Gorse, that he was walking into a rebellion and the possibility of another war, he’d have never boarded the _Ghost._ If he’d found out a year or two after, he’d have turned around and left. He wasn’t sure where that left him now, six years in love with Hera Syndulla and involved with a crew, a _family_ they’d built together.

Actually—

Stuck. It left him stuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This IS going somewhere! Just hang with me, if you can.


End file.
